“I would if I could,” he said, sorrowfully.

“No, no!  Why can’t you?” she cried, clutching his arm.  “He wants you to go back to the machine-shop and—­”

“And—­’like it’!” said Bibbs.

“Yes, that’s it—­to go in a cheerful spirit.  Dr. Gurney said it wouldn’t hurt you if you went in a cheerful spirit—­the doctor said that himself, Bibbs.  So why can’t you do it?  Can’t you do that much for your father?  You ought to think what he’s done for you.  You got a beautiful house to live in; you got automobiles to ride in; you got fur coats and warm clothes; you been taken care of all your life.  And you don’t know how he worked for the money to give all these things to you!  You don’t dream what he had to go through and what he risked when we were startin’ out in life; and you never will know!  And now this blow has fallen on him out of a clear sky, and you make it out to be a hardship to do like he wants you to!  And all on earth he asks is for you to go back to the work in a cheerful spirit, so it won’t hurt you!  That’s all he asks.  Look, Bibbs, we’re gettin’ back near home, but before we get there I want you to promise me that you’ll do what he asks you to.  Promise me!”

In her earnestness she cleared away her black veil that she might see him better, and it blew out on the smoky wind.  He readjusted it for her before he spoke.

“I’ll go back in as cheerful a spirit as I can, mother,” he said.

“There!” she exclaimed, satisfied.  “That’s a good boy!  That’s all I wanted you to say.”

“Don’t give me any credit,” he said, ruefully.  “There isn’t anything else for me to do.”

“Now, don’t begin talkin’ that way!”

“No, no,” he soothed her.  “We’ll have to begin to make the spirit a cheerful one.  We may—­” They were turning into their own driveway as he spoke, and he glanced at the old house next door.  Mary Vertrees was visible in the twilight, standing upon the front steps, bareheaded, the door open behind her.  She bowed gravely.

“’We may’—­what?” asked Mrs. Sheridan, with a slight impatience.

“What is it, mother?”

“You said, ‘We may,’ and didn’t finish what you were sayin’.”

“Did I?” said Bibbs, blankly.  “Well, what were we saying?”

“Of all the queer boys!” she cried.  “You always were.  Always!  You haven’t forgot what you just promised me, have you?”

“No,” he answered, as the car stopped.  “No, the spirit will be as cheerful as the flesh will let it, mother.  It won’t do to behave like—­”

His voice was low, and in her movement to descend from the car she failed to here his final words.

“Behave like who, Bibbs?”

“Nothing.”

But she was fretful in her grief.  “You said it wouldn’t do to behave like somebody.  Behave like who?”

“It was just nonsense,” he explained, turning to go in.  “An obscure person I don’t think much of lately.”